


Pie Forgive You

by SeeWell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #I'mACompulsiveWriter, #IHaveAProbelm, #TerriblePunTitleIsTerrible, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Loves Pie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Castiel, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, POV Castiel, Sam Ships It, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weak Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeWell/pseuds/SeeWell
Summary: One shot suggestion from Transient_Mischief_AKA_Michi:I'd love a story in which Cas determines to make Dean a pie, and he keeps trying and messing up all day, and he's covered in flour, but he finally succeeds right as Dean gets home.......It got it angsty before it got fluffy...but it ends with handjobs and pie so that counts for something, right?Here's some plotless fuff until I get my shit together and get back to working on Grace.Thanks for the inspiration Transient_Mischief_AKA_Michi!!I'll take other suggestions if you lovely people have ideas





	Pie Forgive You

Dean was mad at him again. Dean was always mad at him. When Castiel arrived at the bunker that morning the hunter had grunted “hello” then announced he was leaving for a while. It was his bitter, sideways glance that alerted Castiel to his foul mood.

Castiel huffed as dumped flour and butter into a bowl. He glared at the laptop screen to make sure he was measuring everything correctly.

He made the mistake of melting butter during his first attempt at the recipe. He’d spilled it on his tie only to find out later the butter needed to be solid and cool to make a proper crust. His coat sleeves kept getting into the mixing bowl and there was more flour on the counter than there was in the bowl. He’d abandoned the offending garments on a chair. 

He stared at the pale yellow chunks sitting on top of the flour. Dean wouldn’t be home until the evening. He had all day to solve the mysteries of pie making. He hoped the pie would be a suitable apology for whatever he did to offend his friend. 

At a loss for the next step, he turned to consult Sam’s laptop. He pressed play on an instructional video and watched carefully as the woman on the screen began explaining her technique. 

He narrowed his eyes, studying her every move. He pressed pause. She had a brightly colored apron tied around her. Dean had an apron, though it had a much different color scheme. Castiel decided he didn’t need to match his digital instructor. He retrieved the apron and pulled it over his head, then tied the laces around his waist. He pressed play again. 

The woman began to “cut” the butter into the flour. Castile huffed again and attempted to mimic her movements. She made it seem much easier than it was. She wasn’t spilling things or dropping utensils. She also didn’t have flour in her hair or splashed across her clothes.

He’d given up trying to keep himself tidy hours ago. If he’d continued to use his grace to clean every spill and stain, he’d be too exhausted to continue baking. Stopping to manually clean everything was too time-consuming. He decided he’d take care of the mess after everything else was finished.

“Cas?” Sam’s voice echoed from the other room. “Have you seen my—oh.” He stood in the doorway eyeing the mess Cas had created.

Castiel faced him and attempted to wipe flour from his face with the back of his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” answered Castiel. 

“Nothing looks an awful lot like baking,” said Sam. 

Castiel sighed. “I was trying to make a pie for your brother.” 

“Why?”

“He’s angry with me again.” 

“Why?” repeated Sam.

Castiel shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It seems he is in a constant state of discontent and I am always, somehow, the cause.” 

“But you don’t know what you did?” 

“No,” grumbled Castiel. 

“Don’t you think you should talk to him instead of bribe him with pie?”

“It’s much easier to bribe him.” 

“Yeah but that’s not good for your relationship—er—bond,” said Sam. 

“I will talk to him the next time I do something to anger him,” said Castiel. “This time, I’d much rather appeal to his enthusiasm for pastries.” 

Sam’s shoulders seemed to slump. “Do you need any help?” 

“No. I think I’ll purchase a pie. This process is more involved than I’d anticipated.” 

“It’ll mean more if you make it yourself.” 

Castiel rubbed the back of his wrist against his brow. “I’m aware,” he said. He turned back to his ingredients. Despite what he told Sam, he knew he needed to talk to Dean. It would however, be much easier to talk to the hunter if he had a peace offering. 

Sam appeared beside him and set a large metal object on the counter. “It’s a pastry blender,” he said. “It’ll help.” 

“Thank you,” said Castiel. “You can take your laptop back.” 

“I don’t need it,” said Sam. “I think I’m going to head out for a bit. I probably won’t be back for a day or two.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Taking a quick road trip,” answered Sam. “A friend of mine has a spell book I’ve been meaning to borrow. I’ll tell Dean I’m leaving.” He pulled out his phone and presumably texted his brother.

“All right.” Castiel could feel Sam watching him.

“You should talk to Dean while I’m gone,” said Sam. 

“I will.” 

“You should get to the bottom of this and tell him how you feel.” 

“I will.”

Sam was still watching him so Castiel faced him. 

“You guys _really_ need to talk,” said Sam. “It’s been a long time coming.” 

“I’m aware,” said Castiel. 

“I think this,” he gestured at the mess, “is a step in the right direction. And Dean’s gotten better about listening so I think the timing is right.” 

Castiel squinted at him. “To talk?” 

“Yeah,” said Sam. “I’ll be gone for a while so you have plenty of time to clear the air. And it will be just the two of you. You guys haven’t had a lot of time alone for a while.” 

Castiel tilted his head to one side. “Do you think that will make a difference?” 

“Yes,” answered Sam. “Just you guys. Alone. In the bunker. No pressing cases or anything to distract anybody. No looming apocalypse. We’re all safe. I know Dean seems pissy, but he’s been in a good mood lately.” He suddenly seemed to focus his gaze on Castiel. “Just be honest with him. Tell him how you feel.” 

“Tell him I’m annoyed with his incessant tantrums?” 

Sam shook his head. He raised a hand and gestured to punctuate his words. “Tell him how you _really_ feel.”

“That is how I really feel.” 

Sam’s face fell. “Ok, Cas.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck and let me know how the pie turns out. I’ll be back in a few days.” He left the kitchen muttering to himself. 

Sam left about ten minutes later, oblivious to the turmoil he’d created in Castiel’s mind. 

With the help of the pastry blender Castiel managed to mix the crust, wrap it, and put it in the refrigerator to harden. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and began peeling and slicing apples. 

He had no intention of telling Dean how he really felt. Not again. He’d expressed his affection in hundreds of ways and was always rewarded with something akin to a shrug or polite nod. He wasn’t going to bear his heart only to be met with indifference. 

Dean had all but said he had no interest in him. Their relationship was strictly platonic and Castiel was “family.” 

Castiel frowned at the apple in his hand. Then again, human terms of endearment were notoriously befuddling. Perhaps “family” meant something more. Spouses technically became a family. Sometimes friends could also be considered family if their bond was strong enough.

But Dean was a man of action, not words. His actions clearly indicated that, more often than not, Castiel disappointed or frustrated him. However he expressed a clear desire to stay in contact and to seek out Castiel when they were separated. 

But Dean had issues with abandonment and losing family members. It made sense for him to react strongly when someone went missing. However he did not form attachments at random. Very few people were lucky enough to have Dean call them family and even then when they died, Dean let them go. He’d only gone out of his way to retrieve Castiel and Sam. 

But Dean called him “brother.” Maybe that was all he was. 

He shook the thought from his head. Pathetic though it was, he was content just to stand by Dean’s side for the rest of their time together. A twisted little part of him cherished the dark times because in moments of despair, he was allowed to hold the hunter. Dean made it clear comfort was not allowed at any other time unless it was from a waitress whose name needn’t be remembered.

Castiel glared down at the fruit. He blamed his vessel. He blamed his inability to help the Winchesters. He blamed his bad decisions. He blamed his inadequacy as a human and ineffectiveness as an angel. 

The last useful thing he did was pull the righteous man from the bowels of Hell. He was once a strong and cunning soldier. He used to be impressive, decisive, unbroken. He used to be worthy of someone like Dean. 

No wonder the hunter didn’t love him. Castiel stumbled at every turn and often exacerbated the problem. He was worthless. Of course Dean was always angry with him. He was probably, rightfully, exhausted after cleaning up Castiel’s messes.

He shook his head again and this time cleared his mind. He focused on the knife and the apples. He needed to do something good. He needed to make Dean happy. 

* * *

It was well into the evening when he heard the bunker door open. He’d pulled the pie from the oven minutes ago. The smell of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and he hoped the scent would be enough to draw the hunter in.

Castiel set the pie on the kitchen table and stood behind it trying to figure out how he should pose. 

Dean walked in as Castiel set the knife down.

The hunter looked from the pie to the angel to the oven to the pile of dishes in the sink. His gaze settled back on Castiel and he raised an eyebrow.

Castiel pushed the dish forward. “This is for you,” he said. 

“What’s the occasion?” asked Dean. 

“An apology.” 

“Yeah? You know what you did wrong?” 

Castiel bit back a derisive retort and instead answered honestly. “No. But I don’t like it when you’re angry with me and I wanted to make an effort to resolve the problem.” 

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. “Three days, Cas,” he said. “We didn’t hear a word from you for three days.”

“My phone was destroyed.”

“Then you should have found another way to check in.” 

He knew better than to engage. He’d just spent the entire day working to avoid this exact scenario. “I didn’t think it mattered,” he said, venom leaking into his tone. 

“Right,” muttered Dean. “Because it’s not like Sam and I have gone out of our way to make you feel like family.”

“Obviously I am family,” said Castiel, “but I—” He bit back the end of his sentence. 

“What?” 

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want the pie or not?” 

“Yeah, I want it. Of course I want it.” 

“Then help yourself.” He stepped away from the table and moved brush past the hunter but Dean caught him by the arm.

“You’re going to track flour all over the bunker,” he said, “and I’m sure as Hell not going to clean that up.” 

Castiel glared. He desperately wanted to snap his fingers and put himself back together, but he was too tired. How far had he fallen that something so simple drained him of his energy?

“What’s wrong?” asked Dean. 

Apparently Castiel’s expression betrayed him. “Nothing,” he answered. 

“Bullshit. What’s going on in that feather-brain of yours?” 

“Nothing,” repeated Castiel.

“You better talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Well I don’t want to talk to you either,” said Dean, “but if I can man up and do it, then so can you.”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair and a dusting of flour fell into his face. He pulled his arm from Dean’s grip and tried to wipe his eyes. 

“You’re making it worse,” said Dean. He shoved Castiel’s hands aside and led him to the sink. “Quit touching your face.”

Castiel pursed his lips but held still. 

Dean wet the corner of a clean dishtowel and began wiping flour away. 

They stood in silence and Castiel tried to look anywhere other than the hunter’s face. Dean was gentle, though his face was still stuck in a perpetual glare. 

Castiel turned his focus to the floor. 

“How are you feeling?” Dean asked, his tone significantly softer. 

Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, debating the best way to answer that question. 

“Running low on angel mojo?” asked Dean. 

Castiel nodded. 

Dean sighed too, and his breath was warm and sweet. 

“I’m sorry,” said Castiel quietly. 

Dean ran the cloth against his cheek, wiping away the last of the flour. “Me too,” he said. “I don’t mean to be a dick, I just worry about you.” 

“I’m fine,” said Castiel. He made the mistake of looking up and he lost himself in the green eyes looking back at him. 

“You’re tough,” said Dean, “but you’re not fine.” He nodded to the table. “Sit down and take a load off.” He led Castiel to the table and pulled a chair out for him. 

Castiel sat and realized his feet ached.

Dean pulled out a chair beside him and set two plates and two forks on the table. “Mind if I do the honors?” he asked, gesturing at the pie with the knife.

“Go ahead,” said Castiel. “It’s yours.”

Dean served each of them a slice.

Castiel was suddenly exhausted. The empty nagging in his belly told him he was hungry. Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the implications of that feeling. Hungry, tired, sore, dirty; these were human conditions. No wonder Dean worried about him. He couldn’t take care of himself anymore; he was just the last to realize it.

“This is amazing,” said Dean, mouthful of pie. “You made this?”

“Yes.” 

“All of it?” 

“Yes.”

Dean helped himself to a second slice. “This is fucking amazing.” He nudged Castiel. “Try it. You made it so you should get to enjoy it.” 

Castiel pulled himself from his pool of self-pity. He gave Dean a half-smile and took a bite from the slice in front of him. It was good. He could taste it. The flavors blended and complemented one another and came together to create something very enjoyable. He did not taste molecules. 

“So what’s bugging you?” asked Dean.

“Nothing,” answered Castiel. “I’m much happier now that you and I are on better terms.”

Dean nodded slowly. “How’s the pie?”

“Very good. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“It’s got a great flavor,” said Dean. 

“Indeed it does.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, forks clinking against the dishes.

“Cas.” 

He turned and realized Dean was watching him intently. “Yes?” 

“You can taste it?” 

“Yes,” he answered quietly. He blinked back tears because crying wasn’t an emotional reaction he typically indulged, especially not in front of the Winchesters. Despite his efforts, something wet rolled down his cheek. 

Dean set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, buddy. Even without your grace, you’re still a badass. You’re still part of Team Freewill. You know that, right?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean turned his body to face him and leaned closer. He nudged Castiel to do the same. “I don’t worry about you because I think you can’t handle yourself,” said Dean. “I worry because I can’t lose you.”

The hunter’s hand was warm and heavy on his shoulder. Castiel almost leaned closer. Instead he carefully looked up to face his friend.

“I need you,” said Dean. “Human, angel, whatever. It doesn’t matter. I need you.”

“I need you as well,” said Castiel. 

Dean furrowed his brow. His hand moved slowly upwards, away from Castiel’s shoulder and toward his face. He made eye contact again as he cupped Castiel’s cheek.

Castiel let himself lean in this time.

The hunter leaned closer. The next few moments passed at half-speed yet somehow moved entirely too quickly.

He closed his eyes just as Dean’s lips met his. He clutched onto his friend, lips parted, heart suddenly pounding. Dean tasted like Earth and desire and freedom. When the hunter pulled away he didn’t go far. His lips brushed against Castiel’s as he exhaled. 

Castiel didn’t dare open his eyes. He clung to Dean, unsure how much longer this moment would last. He was acutely aware he was pushing his luck when he nuzzled closer, seeking Dean’s lips once more. 

Dean flinched and inhaled sharply when they connected again. Castiel kissed him slowly, pouring a decade’s worth of confessions into his movements. He placed a hand over the hunter’s heart, desperate for Dean to understand. 

They didn’t speak for several minutes. Dean rested his forehead against Castiel’s and his hands trembled as he clutched the angel’s shirt. 

“Is this because you pity me?” asked Castiel. 

The hunter was silent.

“I can’t—I need to know why,” he said.

Dean didn’t answer. 

“Please,” whispered Castiel. 

Dean clenched his jaw and took Castiel’s face in both hands. He kissed the angel again. “This is going to sound dumb,” he said finally, “but will you come to my room with me? I’m feeling a little exposed.”

Castiel nodded. 

Dean took his hand and stayed close to his side as they made their way to his room. He shut the door behind them and locked it, still clutching Castiel’s hand in his own. When the lock clicked, he let out a breath.

“Are you all right?” asked Castiel. 

“Yeah,” he answered. “Just dumb and nervous.” 

Castiel tilted his head to one side.

Dean held one hand to his chest and cupped his cheek again. “I need you to listen to me,” he said. “I’m bad at this, but I’m going to try not to fuck it up.” 

“All right. I’m listening.”

Dean took a deep breath. “I don’t pity you. At all. You’re awesome and you’re the baddest badass I’ve ever met.”

Castiel squinted. “Thank you.”

“I have—fuck me, I don’t know the right way to say this.” He huffed. “Fuck it. Here goes.” He focused intently on the angel. “I have been stupidly, mind-numbingly in love with you for years. I know I’m a puny little human and you’re an all-knowing warrior of God and I know this is probably frowned upon in Heaven, but my stupid heart didn’t get the memo.” He licked his lips. “I love you, Cas. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I need you to know how I feel.”

Castiel stared at him, frozen in place.

“I was going to keep that to myself, but Sammy’s been hounding me about it. If things are weird now, blame him.” 

“You love me,” said Castiel. 

“Yeah,” muttered Dean. “A lot. So much that it’s kind of a problem. I’m normally a pretty smart guy, but I’m a fucking idiot around you.”

“I love you, too,” said Castiel.

“Don’t say it just because I said it. I get that this is kind of an improbable relationship.” 

“I’ve loved you since I raised you from Hell – since I put you back together,” said Castiel. 

Dean finally seemed to relax. “Guess I should have said something sooner.”

“To clarify,” said Castiel, “we are speaking in terms of romance, correct?”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, you dork, we’re speaking in terms of romance.”

“Good,” said Castiel.

The hunter bit his lip. “I have no clue what to do now.” 

“I am content just to hold you again,” said Castiel, pulling Dean into his arms. “I didn’t think I’d get another chance.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Hell,” answered Castiel. “You were badly injured but your soul was so strong – so bright. I held you in my arms and I just—I knew you were safe. I knew I’d spend the rest of my existence keeping you safe, consequences be damned.” 

Dean chuckled softly and his chest shook against Castiel’s. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” he said. 

“You are not female,” said Castiel. “And I’ve never said that to anyone.” 

“That was sarcasm,” said Dean. He let out a shaky breath. “I wish I could remember you in Hell. I remember all of the other shit. It’s not fair that I can’t remember you.” 

Castiel pressed his lips to the hunter’s cheek. “You were unconscious for most of it.” He bit his lip and lowered his voice. “You were so beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful.” 

Dean swallowed hard. He raised his gaze to meet Castiel. “You’re beautiful, too,” he breathed. He licked his lips. “Would it be blasphemy if I said I wanted to uh, explore this a little further?”

“Would you care if it was?” 

Dean grinned. “Not really.”

Moments later Castiel was flat on his back on the memory foam mattress, trembling as Dean’s fingers slowly untucked his shirt. 

“Dean,” panted Castiel. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured. His tongue was hot against the angel’s throat and his teeth grazed against the soft skin. 

One hand was splayed against Castiel’s chest, holding him to the bed, while the other slipped beneath his waistband. Castiel gasped when Dean’s hand crept lower towards his pelvis. 

Dean kissed him again. “You all right?” he asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

Dean captured his lips, tongue licking eagerly into his mouth. His fingers brushed against the base of Castiel’s cock and the angel’s entire body quivered. 

He tugged at Dean’s shirt. “Off,” he breathed. “All of it.”

Dean laughed. He pulled his hands back and began undressing.

Castiel followed suit, wishing he was strong enough to snap them both free of their garments. 

Dean was much faster. He was down to his boxers while Castiel was still fumbling with his belt. Dean shoved his hands away and took over, pushing Castiel back onto the mattress. 

The hunter licked and nibbled at Castiel skin as he worked to remove his pants. Dean nipped at his hips and Castiel bucked against him 

Dean kissed his way back up the angel’s body, once again finding his lips. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long,” he said. 

“I wanted you too,” said Castiel. He struggled to concentrate. Dean’s hand was making very distracting movements against his hips and he could feel the hunter’s erection pressing against his own. 

“Never occurred to me an angel would settle for a human,” said Dean, “much less a stupid hunter.” 

“It never occurred to me the righteous man, chosen by God, would settle for a fallen seraph,” countered Castiel. 

Dean grinned and pressed his hips down. “Touché,” he breathed. He silenced Castiel with another slow kiss and shoved their boxers down past their hips. When their skin made contact they gasped. 

Suddenly Dean’s fingers wrapped around Castiel’s cock. He began slowly pumping his fist precome providing a slick coating. Castiel arched his back at the sensation. His mind went blank for a moment before he was able to reach out and take hold of the other man’s erection. 

Dean let out a satisfying moan. They rocked against each other, panting and silent. Dean’s free hand was tangled in Castiel’s hair and the angel could tell how close he was to the edge by the strength of his grip. He dug his blunt nails into the hunter’s back and hid his face against Dean’s shoulder. 

Something burned low in his belly. Pleasured pooled deep within him creating a sensation he’d yet to experience. It was more than lust and release. It was joy and hope and relief and love. He was starved for it and he knew this moment would change him forever.

Dean pumped his fist vigorously and sucked at his neck.

Castiel moaned and matched the rhythm. He was lost in the feeling. “I love you,” he breathed.

Dean moaned softly and his lips brushed against Castiel’s ear when he spoke. “I love you too, Cas.” 

Moments later they came together, bodies shaking and convulsing against one another.

Dean rolled onto his side and pulled Castiel into his chest. He pressed his lips against the angel’s shoulder. “I could get used to this,” he murmured.

Castiel hummed in agreement. “Me too,” he said. “Though I’d rather not wait another eight years.”

“Can you wait an hour?” asked Dean. “If I remember correctly there’s still pie downstairs with my name on it.”

Castiel rolled over, still entangled in Dean’s arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy. 

“I want to taste some more of that pie,” said Dean, “then I’d like to drag you back here and taste some of you.” 

“Now that’s blasphemy,” said Castiel, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“Worth it,” said Dean. 

Castiel wiggled closer and breathed in the scent of his human. Grace buzzed within him and he felt his body relax. Dean was his and he was Dean’s and they were family, now and forever.


End file.
